Broken
by Yui-Mag
Summary: A Kaze Hikaru fic! Sei's thoughts on the world she now lives in and the changes its caused her.


Disclaimer: The characters of Kaze Hikaru are not of my own creation. They belong to the very talented Taeko Watanabe whom I bow down to. The lyrics are also not my own. They are from the song "Jusqu'a la tolerance" sung by Ginie Line. I did translate them myself though and may have taken some creative liberties (not really). But if you feel as if something was grossly mistranslated, please let me know!

/Broken Dream/

It was night out. The moon, partially hidden by clouds, cast a strange bleak light on the training grounds. It caused shadows to move when everything else stayed still. It had held Sei's attention for a bit, pulling her already troubled thoughts into a murkier depth filled with unanswerable questions. With little notice, she traced the hilt of her katana, its heavy weight a constant comfort and burden at her side. More so than even Okita-sensei, it had become her silent companion and she wondered if it would ever feel normal to _not_ have it by her.

_Qui peut parler de tolerance?_

_Who can speak of tolerance?_

She shook her head, physically trying to dispel the thoughts when her internal shouts had been to no avail. For a moment it worked, the brush of her bangs prickling her forehead taking hold of her awareness as well as how cool the night air suddenly felt against the bare patches of her skin. She shivered and hugged her knees closer to her chest.

_Pour notre sage indifference_

_With our wise indifference_

She knew that she should go inside— that she should get as much rest as she could before the next day dawned. Before the next practice began, before the next patrol, before the next deaths…

_On laisse pleurer la terre tout bas_

_We leave the world to cry softly_

Her throat tightened and her eyes prickled as the rhythm of her heart dully beat inside her chest. The bloody memories played inside her mind along with the soundless questions. How many more? How many more before it would all end? Would it ever really end? What exactly were they all fighting for? Reaching for?

_On laisse tourner le monde comme ca…_

_We leave the world to continue like this…_

The longer she fought, the less clear right and wrong became for her. The definitions she'd had were cracked beyond repair, new ones were elusive and hard to keep for long. Each side had something of value to bring to the people, their beliefs fueled by the thought, the dream, the _convictions_ that it would provide a better future for the generations to come. And each side had come to make some sense to her.

Right and wrong?

Black and white?

They were concepts that no longer existed. Her belief in them was tinted and everything she saw was now painted in various shades of grey, blood red, and the blurry clearness of tears. It was harder for her to see the colors.

_On court apres l'amour_

_We run after love_

Hatred held hands with love, disgust with respect. Her hands shook where they were, clenching at the fabric of her hakama. She'd first joined the Shinsengumi to become a Bushi. To become a man worthy of her broken family. She needed to avenge them for their wrongful deaths. She had needed to kill the person who had so thoughtlessly taken the only happiness from her life. But in walking down that path, she had realized that many other things could break a person as well as built them up. The man who had killed her family had deeply believed in what he was doing. He too had people who loved and cared for him. Was it right then for her to take his life? She hadn't believed it to be so. She had been paralyzed between hatred and the awful realization that with each life she took, another person would soon be crippled with the terrible pain that she herself lived with day in and out.

_Mais sans s'arreter_

_But without stopping_

She had been naively thinking that one death would mean that the pain, the anger, the hatred would just go away from within her. But the man had killed himself, leaving behind a woman who loved him and his unborn child in the name of his beliefs. Sei hadn't felt better. She'd just felt more lost and confused. And scared. Okita-sensei had been able to smile. How? And why? Did life mean so little? But she learned another lesson—too soon—that there was a vast difference in fighting for revenge and fighting to protect someone.

_Mais sans en donner assez_

_But without giving enough_

Strangely enough, it made it easier to kill and harder all at the same time. She could kill now if it meant protecting him. If it meant protecting the people around her that she had grown to care for and love despite their sometimes less than admirable ways. Yet it was harder because she only now understood the heavy price that came with killing another.

_On court apres l'amour_

_We run after love_

But if everyone was fighting for someone they wanted to protect or the future even…why? Why did they kill so many along the way? Wasn't there another way? Didn't it sicken them to see the children crying in the street or walking numbly away, blood splattering them from head to toe? To see women screaming or sitting, vacantly along the side of the streets hands holding onto their fallen loved ones as their immaculate painted faces were marred with the salty liquid raining down? Where was the peace they preached about? This new world that would come? Where was the love and tolerance for everyone? Where was it all?

_Sans se demander_

_Without asking_

Would it all be worth it one day?

_Si on sait aimer assez_

_If we know how to love enough_

She didn't understand all the politics involved. She didn't have the head for it nor the heart or the stomach. She only knew the lives that it damaged. She only knew the hatred that it engendered. She only knew that despite the smiling faces they showed to the world, Okita-sensei would throw up when he was alone and that she would cry for all the men who couldn't or wouldn't.

_Jusqu'à la tolerance_

_Until tolerance is achieved_

Would it really be worth it?

_Qui peut trouver de l'esperance_

_Who can find hope_

Sei moved so that her face was pressed in the fabric where her tears were hidden and soaked up. She had been trying more and more to hide them from Okita-sensei. The tears she cried. She feared that he would use it against her one day. Push her to take back her life as a woman. That this was no place for a woman to be in, that she should try for her future, have a husband and children and forget the horrors that she'd seen and lived through. He could be naïve in his own way as well.

_Dans nos regards lourds d'indecence__?_

_In our heavy indecent gazes?_

With her calloused hands, her scarred chest and shoulder, and those instincts he had so carefully instilled in her to keep from being injured she could no longer be a proper wife. Gone were the teachings from her childhood on how to behave properly. Gone were the days when that future he spoke of had been her dream. Now it seemed only a hazy nightmare she'd finally woken from. A golden cage that had been ripped wide open. Funny, how men seemed to not see that golden cage which they had created. They only saw the promise of comfort it could bring and never the chains. But women and even some men like Yukiya knew the harsher truth.

_Quand nos mains se detournent du cœur_

_When our hands turn away from the heart_

In any case, was there so little hope in the world that he would cast her aside? Was their future becoming so bleak? Or was the burden of keeping her secret becoming too much as she grew older? It was true that it was getting harder and harder to conceal what she truly was. It hurt to bind her chest and the men were always in awe at how unlike a man she continued to look like. That brought other types of dangers. Their hungry eyes as they followed her every move reminded her of their very different natures and she would clutch her katana to herself more closely. It was also hard on her throat to always have to remember to lower it. She had past the age where she could truly always excuse it on her voice changing. That sort of change happened as early as eleven or as late as fifteen years old. She was sixteen now. But truly? If she could tell him the truth—she would tell Okita-sensei that what had initially been her disguise was now her real self and it was wearing women's clothes that had become the costume.

_Quand nos cœurs se retrouvent ailleurs_

_When our hearts are so far away_

And maybe it had nothing to do with keeping the secret but all to do with the confusing ache that rested within her heart. There had been signs, brief moments between them that had called to that ache. Instances where she could have sworn that the emotions she felt were reflected in his eyes. But within a blink they were gone and she was left by herself, more alone than before. Perhaps the burden was in having to protect her and only her when before he'd been fighting to protect the people. Perhaps it was because he was starting to become disillusioned after having to pour the blood from so many—his loved ones included.

_On court apres l'amour_

_We run after love_

"Kamiya-san?" His voice called out, breaking her free of the memories and thoughts combined when nothing else had worked. She shot out from the position she'd been in, her cramped muscles screaming in loud protest at the sudden movement. Her heart was pounding, the blood rushing in her ears as adrenaline washed over her. No matter how many times he snuck up on her, he always, _always, _managed to catch her off guard. Automatically, while her back was still to him, her arms made their way to brush her eyes dry. "What are you doing still up?" He asked, expression bemused as he blinked tired eyes at her.

_Mais sans s'arreter_

_But without stopping_

"Thinking." She answered quickly and then frowned at his state of undressed, glad that the night would hide her heating cheeks. Men really had no shame and he was no exception. She looked away. "What are _you_ doing up?" He paused, his head inclined to the side as he gazed at her with eyes that seemed too awake. Such a strange contrast to what only had passed mere seconds ago. A sad smile pulled at his lips and he gave a brief nod. Was it her imagination or did he repeat her words…? He couldn't know, could he?

_Mais sans en donner assez_

_But without giving enough_

"It was cold." He was suddenly right there, behind her, his chin resting on the top of her head while his arms were loosely draped over her shoulders. The warmth of him filled her senses and she stood still, unable to do anything else. "Kamiya-san," He whined in the tone a child would use to deliberately get his way. It was the tone of voice he knew always got on her nerves. "It was lonely and co-old without you…" And like magic, she felt herself get flustered and angry all at once. If he was referring to what she thought he was… She hadn't meant to use him as a human blanket! She'd been asleep for god's sake! But it had been cold and…and it was all _his _fault anyway! It wasn't like she'd been the only one clinging! He'd had his arms around her too! Her hands formed fists as embarrassment took over. If he continued bringing it, the men would _never _let thematter go! Never!

"Okita-sensei!" She growled.

_On court apres l'amour_

_We run after love_

Too soon, the two of them were running around the yard as Sei tried to catch him and give him an earful while he laughed and evaded her as easily as the wind.

_Sans se demander_

_Without asking_

There was no catching him.

_Si on sait aimer assez_

_If we can love enough_

There was no catching her.

_Jusqu'à la tolerance_

_Until tolerance is achieved_

They were both too elusive by nature, trusting yet not. A warm kindness mingled with a coldness that only comes with having killed. They were blind as well.

_Pour faire un monde meilleur_

_To make a better world_

Saitoh could only watch the two from the shadows knowing these truths while not really comprehending them all the while. He'd been here from the beginning. Watching as Sei cried silently, his wide eyes staring out into nothing. He'd been unable to move and reach out like Okita had done without another thought. He knew that even if he had, he would have been unable to bring him back from wherever he had been lost. Not like this…where he was back to a raging whirlwind of energy and grace.

No, his place was as it would always be. He was the older brother's shadow in the living world. The boy's protection and source of comfort when Okita, that idiot, was blind to the younger man's feelings.

He rested his back against the wall of the house and waited.

_Un monde d'amour_

_A world of love_

Sometimes, Sei feared that the big plans…the future that great leaders envisioned and taught to the people would never come to be. She feared that human nature was too twisted, too caught up in always having to be the right one, to having to be the better man, the better woman… Love was there. But it wasn't enough. There wasn't enough of it. There wasn't enough understanding or compassion. It was what she feared.

_Ou trouver du bonheur_

_Where we'd find happiness_

Yet Okita-sensei…

_Trouver de secour_

_Find help_

She paused in her run watching him as he hid behind a tree, his expression free and young. Which was the mask? The carefree man teasing her into a rage or the killer with haunted eyes that loved so deeply it made her want to cry? Whom children immediately turned to because they recognized it and took comfort in the fact that not all adults completely forgot what it was like to be their age in such uncertain times. Wasn't that proof that love did exist? In multiple and varying forms but…it was there… If she reached out, would she be able to understand?

"I give up! Stay out here and freeze to death for all I care! I'm going inside." She announced, turning away.

"Really?! That's no fun…"

_Et de la tolerance_

_And tolerance_

Sei nestled down into the blankets, exhausted by all the running around that Okita-sensei had caused. She made a little snorting sound, making it a point of turning her back on him. She could only picture his smug face too well as she listened to him moving around beside her. He was still chuckling softly. And it surprised her how comforting the sound really was, so much so that she never realized when it stopped and her eyes closed against her will. She was nearly asleep when Okita moved closer to her, his hand carefully brushing some bangs away from her face.

"You've stopped thinking…" The words were whispered.

Yes. For the time being. Her mind was quiet.

The questions, the doubts, the fears and the guilt—they would all still be there to greet her in the morning. The colors of the world would still be lost to her, perhaps forever. But… She moved closer to him, a source of warmth. He allowed it, settling the two of them more comfortably.

…for now it was quiet.

A/N- Uhm… my first Kaze Hikaru fic! I hope it was even remotely in character. I would love feedback and I would also LOVE LOVE LOVE if more people wrote for this series. It's becoming one of my favorites and I've been really sad to discover how little attention it's been given. Anywho…I'll stop my rambling!


End file.
